


The Burden of the Chosen

by rynling



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Divine Destiny, Gen, Implied Malon/Link, Triforce Trio, Zelda Warrior Princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 16:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14572686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynling/pseuds/rynling
Summary: Four short stories about the pain and trauma of finding oneself caught up in a great yet terrible destiny.





	The Burden of the Chosen

**Demise’s Curse**

In the desert beyond the green fields of Hyrule there is a teenage boy, gentle and sheltered and intelligent and educated, clothed in the loose white robes of his high office in the Gerudo order of sages. The young man is in the midst of making the final preparations to ascend to the throne that is his birthright when the first explosion rips through the sandstone floor below him. Soldiers dressed in cyanic blue, the emblematic color of the neighboring kingdom, rush in with their silver spears, and the white gleam of their faces is cruel against the black blood that flows thick like tainted honey across the tiled floors.

The young priest-king flees the area of immediate danger, as he has been trained to do in moment of crisis, but he rushes deeper into the battle, dodging attacks with consummate skill as he seeks the witch queens in the chaos. Ash stings his eyes as the world burns around him, and his blood boils as the world inside him burns with equal fervor. When he finds the wise and weathered crones he falls onto his knees, having lost the last shred of his dignity when the screams of women and horses fell suddenly and hideously silent behind him on the other side of a black wall made of pillars of smoke. He can hear the insidious slide of sand as the temple of his ancestors begins to collapse into obscurity, just another charred ruin in the desert.

“Teach me,” he begs the witches, his voice not yet that of a man. “If you truly desire a Gerudo king, the time is now. Teach me how to hold fire in my hands. Teach me how to hold power so great that I will never have cause to know fear again.”

△     △     △

**Victory**

"Why have you come here, boy?" Ganondorf demanded, a fierce gleam in his eye.

Link shrank back from the intensity of his gaze but then braced himself, answering, "I came to defeat you."

Ganondorf smirked. "I see you hold the Master Sword in your hand. If it has allowed you to pull it from its pedestal, then your fight is already won. I yield to your courage."

Link frowned as his shoulders dropped. "You... yield?" he asked.

"I do. I will withdraw my forces and leave this place, never to return again."

With this pronouncement, Ganondorf lifted himself from the throne and swept his cape out behind him. Its rough fabric caught the pale light falling through the clerestory windows, shining with a brief flash of burnt crimson. He walked down the steps of the dais and strode past Link, who was too shocked to forestall him. He passed by so closely that Link could smell the oil coating the leather joints of his dark armor.

"Oh, but do tell me, boy," Ganondorf said softly, glancing over his shoulder as he paused at Link's back. "Now that this cursed kingdom belongs to the infant princess once again, what will you do? Will you raise your sword to strike down the next dissenter who opposes the monarchy? And the next, and then the next? Will the sacred blade deliver you from political unrest?"

Link clenched his teeth and held his head high, refusing to respond to Ganondorf's taunts. The ensuing silence spun itself out as Link prepared himself to deflect the first blow of the cruel scimitars the warlord wore at his waist.

The attack never came. Instead, Ganondorf gave a grunt that wasn't quite laughter.

"When you finally see the bloodstained history of Hyrule for the horror it is," he said, "and when the burden of power grows too great for the girl to handle on her own, come find me."

Link's breath caught in his throat. It was only when the metallic echoes of Ganondorf's footsteps against the marble floor faded from the room that he was able to exhale. He did not pursue his enemy, but only stared at the empty throne, the Master Sword still clenched in his fist.

△     △     △

**The Hero’s Shade**

Imagine that your life peaked at seventeen.

When you’re a teenager, you feel invincible. And perhaps, if you rise to your destiny as the hero of legend, you may indeed become invincible. You may be invincible even though this was never what you wanted, and even if you wish with all your heart that it was not so.

For this is the terrible truth of the hero – once you’re no longer seventeen, your life goes on.

You may have salvaged the remains of a dying kingdom, but what then? Do you continue to roam the land, always searching for new threats to an uneasy peace? Does your life have meaning if you have nothing to fight? Do you forsake the joy of adventure and remain in the castle and protect the young and newly coronated queen? Does your life have meaning if you have no one to protect?

And what of this princess whom you supposedly saved? How many people did you have to murder so that she could claim her throne? She knows your guilt, for you see it reflected in the frigid coldness of her eyes. Are you to be her royal guard, now that she can barely stand to look at you? The people of the land expect a romance, the seemingly natural conclusion to your story. You may have even entertained the possibility yourself when she gazed upon you with sadness and longing, once. But you have shared too much, yet there are too many secrets between you. There has been too much bloodshed.

Yet you carry the line of the hero in your veins, and you must be bred. The farm girl who shared your fascination with music and riding in the open fields, the girl who waited for you, the girl who recognized you when no one did, the girl you loved before you knew what love was – you must never see her again. You cannot apologize to her, for there is nothing either of you is allowed to apologize for. A suitable match will be found for you, a girl of noble blood who has never known hardship. You will do your duty to Hyrule as you have done once before, and she will bear your children, thus ensuring future prosperity of your kingdom. You will love your children, because you must, as you must love your queen and country.

Even for former heroes, time takes its toll, and there will come a day when your sword no longer sings in your hand. Your body will grow heavy and sluggish, and your eyes and ears will betray you. You have remained faithful all your life, but your bitterness has become impossible to ignore, and so you will flee into the wilderness. Courage is no longer your virtue, if in fact it ever was. Will you meet your end in battle, facing a foe that is worthy of your faded skill? Will you find peace in one of the ancient temples you once desecrated, begging the gods for forgiveness as you lay yourself upon a crumbling altar? Or will your steps simply cease in the tall grass of a forgotten plain, your body returning to the earth as crickets chirp within your empty helmet?

This was my life, and it will become yours as well. We have been swept up in this cycle along with all the others who preceded us and all who will surely come after us. But we cannot turn away, because that is not who we are; that is why we were chosen above all others.

There is much you must learn if you wish to defeat the great evil you will face, but I will not lie to you – the true curse of this land is not that pitiful and power-hungry man, nor the shadow of the primordial demon he casts. You must master the techniques passed down by our line, but you must also master yourself and overcome the darkness that dwells in your own wretchedly immortal soul.

Now take the sacred blade in your hand, young hero, and prepare to face me!

**△     △     △**

**The Legend of Zelda**

There once was a princess whose father was slain by an evil wizard.

This came as a relief to the princess, for her father had been just as bloodthirsty as the wizard. Whereas the king, newly victorious after a civil war that had decimated the kingdom, could not be deposed without consequence, the wizard most certainly could. In a way, the wizard had done her a favor, not in the least by being a foreigner.

The princess hid herself away and bided her time until a hero appeared. Courageous as he was, he could not defeat the wizard on his own, and so she aided him, always from the shadows. It would not do for people to learn that their beloved princess had been trained as an assassin, after all.

When the right moment presented itself, the princess allowed herself to be captured by the wizard and held hostage in a castle that was once her own. There they spoke of many things, and he taught her, perhaps unintentionally, that the hero’s line could not abide a ruler whose power was absolute.

The princess assisted the hero in doing away with the wizard, and once that task was complete she took the opportunity to do away with the hero in turn. She let it be known that the hero had appeared from a realm that existed outside of time and that he had merely returned from whence he came.

In time the princess became a queen. Her people called her Zelda the Wise, for everyone knew just how _unwise_ it was to defy her iron will, which had been forged to a keen point in the fires of the legend she created to tell her own story.


End file.
